


Can't Help Falling

by Rachello344



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Chrollo is fond, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Allies, KRKR Zine Entry, Kurapika Deals with his Feelings, Kurapika is not, Life Saving, M/M, Pre-Slash, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 12:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16159049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachello344/pseuds/Rachello344
Summary: Kurapika hates Chrollo, he really does.  And he knows for a fact that he always will.





	Can't Help Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the KRKR Zine, and finally crossposted here. I prefer the spelling as "Chrollo" so that's the only change I've made between here and the zine. I hope you guys like it! And thanks to our Zine Leaders for letting us crosspost our work once the donations were made!!

Kurapika stifled his flinch as his shoulders bumped against Chrollo’s back.  “I’m not doing this with you right now,” he said, unwilling to take his eyes off the people currently trying to kill them both.  “I want you dead.  This is all your fault anyway.”

“My fault?” Chrollo asked.  He sounded like he was smiling.  “ _You_ stole from them.”

“What—Don’t pin this on me!” Kurapika snapped, deflecting a hit with one of his chains.  “You killed their leader!”

“I’m just saying, they want us _both_ dead.  Regardless of whose responsibility it was.” Chrollo said, voice mild.  “Are you so sure you can fight me and them at the same time?  Or maybe you really are suicidal?”

Kurapika deflected another one of the enemy’s attacks, countering quickly before bouncing back to center.  He wanted Chrollo dead, but at the very least, for the time being, Chrollo _was_ the only person in the room not currently trying to kill him.  He huffed.  “Fine, _damn it_ , we take care of these guys, and then I’m going to kill you.”

Chrollo laughed, summoning his book to his hand, clearly unconcerned.  “There’s that spark I love,” he teased.  “It’s a shame; I kind of wanted to see if I could fight all of you at once.”

Kurapika almost turned around, catching himself only barely, blocking another attack.  “You are unbelievable.  Also, I hate you.”

“Noted.”  Chrollo sounded like he was having fun.  Kurapika wanted to stab him.

Unfortunately, falling into rhythm with Chrollo was all too easy.  His movements were confident and unpredictable to all but a few.  Kurapika had been obsessively plotting his murder for long enough that he knew more than enough about how he fought.

The strangest thing was the feeling of Chrollo moving in to cover blind spots, as if he’d been paying attention to Kurapika’s fighting style as well.

Kurapika didn’t have the time to linger on the thought, beset as they were on all sides.  He felt like they’d been fighting for much too long against enemies as weak as these seemed to be.  It almost felt like they were stalling for something.  Kurapika opened his mouth to say as much when Chrollo slammed into his back, knocking him to the floor.

An explosion rocked the room, Kurapika’s ears ringing with the blast, his eyes thankfully hidden by Chrollo’s arm.  As the dust cleared, Kurapika glanced around.  No one else was moving, except Chrollo stirring slightly where he was draped along Kurapika’s back.  Had they all been sacrifices…?

“What the hell was that?” Kurapika asked, once he could hear more or less clearly again.  He shifted, but Chrollo made no move to get up.  Kurapika frowned.  “Hey.  You’re heavy.”

Chrollo’s breath shuddered against his neck.  “Sorry, I don’t think moving is the best idea for me right now.”  He laughed, warm air raising goosebumps as it ghosted over his nape.  “In fact, I think that would be extremely ill-advised.”

“What are you—”  Kurapika shifted beneath him, barely managing to turn his head.  Chrollo’s back was completely scorched.  “W-What?”

“It seems I didn’t raise my guard as quickly as I thought I did,” he noted, voice breathy.  “I might be getting rusty.”

Kurapika’s blood ran cold.  “You bastard.”  He had enough time.  He should have had enough time— _but Kurapika hadn’t._   “You sick son of a bitch.”

Chrollo laughed, but the sound was wet and painful.  “Is that any way to talk to the man who saved your life?”

“You twisted _monster_.  I’m going to _kill you_.”  Kurapika struggled to free himself, but to no avail.  When Chrollo let out a pained noise, he fell still.

“That probably won’t be necessary.  You could leave me here, and these injuries would likely do the work for you.”  Chrollo tucked his nose against Kurapika’s neck.  “Isn’t that great?  You won’t have to lift a finger, and your revenge will be taken care of.”

“Who would be satisfied with that?” Kurapika snapped.  “Like hell are you dying like this, Chrollo Lucilfer.  You will die by my hand.  I won’t let you get away with saddling me with some fucking life debt.”  Kurapika fidgeted, trying to get his phone free.

“Are you going to save the life of your mortal enemy, Kurapika?”  Chrollo’s lips brushed the skin of his neck with every word.  Kurapika shivered.

“I am going to kill you,” he muttered.  “But not here.”  _Unfortunately_.  He got his phone free and checked it—still in one piece.  With some effort, he managed to dial Leorio’s phone number, placing it near his head.

“Kurapika?” Leorio answered, his voice tight and loud with worry.  “Where are you?  Are you safe?”

“I’m fine,” he answered quickly.  “I was in the blast zone.  I need you to come straight away, and bring medical supplies.  The person I was with was gravely injured, and I’m not letting him die.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.  Stay safe.”  Leorio hung up before Kurapika could.  He kept his eyes on the phone.  Leorio was not going to be happy about this, but he _was_ a doctor.  He was the only person Kurapika trusted with this.

“He’s not going to just kill me?” Chrollo asked.  “After all the suffering I’ve caused you?”

“No.”  Kurapika focused on breathing.  “Leorio is a good man, and an even better doctor.  He’ll save your life, even though you deserve to die.”

Chrollo laughed again, but it sounded worse than before.  Lung damage, Kurapika guessed.

“Doesn’t your book have a power for healing?” he asked, tapping a finger on the ground.

“Sure,” Chrollo answered easily.  “And if either of my hands were in working order, I might even be able to use it.”  He sounded unnervingly cheerful.  Kurapika thought about letting him die anyway, but eventually shook the thought off.

This wasn’t how he was going to get his revenge.

“Kurapika!” Leorio shouted from outside the room.

“In here!” Kurapika called back.

The door was knocked down, and before Kurapika could so much as lift his head, Leorio was shouting again, incoherent.

“Leorio,” Kurapika tried to cut in, “ _Leorio_ , would you _listen to me_?”

“What the hell is he doing here!  And why is he on top of you!”  Leorio pointed down at him, but even as he shouted, his eyes were cataloguing injuries and making connections.

“Unfortunately, he risked his life to save mine.”  Kurapika frowned up at him.  “I need you to save him so that I don’t owe him for this.”

Leorio frowned, but his friend’s angry confusion shifted into the seriousness of the doctor.  He knelt, surveying the damage more closely.  “Fine, but only because you asked, Kurapika.”  He sighed.  “You were right not to move too much.  This is pretty nasty.”  He opened his bag.  “I have the ability to stabilize you, but actually healing you is beyond me as I am.”

“If you can get my hands in order, I’ll be able to handle the rest,” Chrollo said.  “And I’m sure Kurapika is tired of having me all over him.”  He nosed along his neck again.

Kurapika was definitely going to stab him.  “The moment you’re healed, you’re a dead man.”

“So cold,” Chrollo murmured.  “I’m hurt.”

“Not badly enough, apparently.”

Leorio snorted, but thankfully, his hands made steady work.  Before too long, Chrollo was being lifted off Kurapika, his arms supporting his weight as he carefully pushed onto his knees.  He summoned his book, murmured something, and a pale blue mist was blanketing them both.

Kurapika sat up and looked down at his hands, surprised to see the scrapes and bruises fade.  His ears, too, felt much better than they had been.  The mounting headache eased and faded.

Chrollo rose to his feet, self-satisfied and apparently unharmed.  He gave a bow of his head to Leorio.  “Thanks, doctor.  You really helped me out.”

Leorio frowned, but nodded.  “It’s my job.  And Kurapika asked.  Otherwise, I might have left you here.”

“I suppose that makes us even, then.”  Chrollo smiled.  “Care for a rematch?”

“Boss!” echoed down the hallway.  Chrollo’s smile faded, his expression turning serious.

“It seems our work here is far from over.”  He looked back down at Kurapika, something in his expression softening.  “Until next time.”  He left the room without an ounce of hurry in his step.

Kurapika scowled, pushing himself to his feet.

“Should we… go after him?” Leorio asked, wincing.

“No,” Kurapika huffed.  “He’s right.  Our work isn’t over.  These guys have accomplices, I’m sure.  Chrollo may have killed their boss, but they must have a second in command calling the shots from somewhere.”  He adjusted his tunic.  “And we still need to find the other necklace for His Majesty.”

His mind lingered on Chrollo’s expression as he left.  Kurapika didn’t know how to explain it, or what it meant. Nor did he really understand why Chrollo had gone so far just to protect him from the blast.

“I left Melody near the bridge,” Leorio said.

“Well then, let’s go.  I’m sure she has some idea what’s going on by now.”  Kurapika shook his thoughts off and strode down the hallway.  He could still feel the warm weight of Chrollo along his back, his breath against his neck.

Next time, he was definitely going to kill him.

 

* * *

 

 

Unfortunately for Kurapika, next time didn’t pan out.  They ended up working together again, Chrollo stealing from another group of thieves with Kurapika’s reluctant help.  Without Chrollo—and it killed Kurapika to admit it, even to himself—Kurapika would not have been able to restore his client’s heirloom painting.

Time after time, Kurapika was prevented from killing Chrollo.  Someone nearby would cut their fight short, or they’d need to work together to accomplish some greater task.

Once, Chrollo even asked for his help in taking down a human trafficking ring.  Kurapika still wasn’t sure what to make of the request, but he wouldn’t have felt right refusing it.  A number of the children, he learned later, had been stolen from Meteor City.

They were just out of another such task, stealing back art from some dictator—Chrollo stealing the man’s other treasures for himself and his Troupe.  Chrollo was overseeing the separation, stolen art from purchased jewelry, and Kurapika was overseeing Chrollo.

It was the perfect moment to kill him.  The last of the Troupe were heading off to take the treasures to their base, Kurapika’s current coworkers were taking the art back toward their truck.  In moments, they would be alone.

He looked down at his hands.  His chains had yet to rematerialize.  His eyes were normal behind their contacts.

Chrollo turned and shot him a quizzical look.

Kurapika froze, realization hitting him harder than one of Gon’s punches.  He couldn’t kill him.  No, worse, he _wouldn’t_ kill him.  Chrollo gave him an understanding smile, like he could hear Kurapika’s realization.  Kurapika’s fists clenched.  After everything, in spite of himself, _somehow_ …

“I hate you,” Kurapika said and his voice was broken open, tender and exposed.  He looked down; his hands were shaking, but the chains were still missing.  He clenched his fists tighter, until his nails bit into his palms.  What was he supposed to do _now_?  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the sting.

“So, you’ve finally realized, then.”  Chrollo took a step forward, his heel clicking against the wood flooring.  “You know, there are other ways to exact your revenge.  Especially now that you’ve already gotten the eyes back.”

Kurapika tried not to listen, but he was far too attuned to Chrollo to stop himself.  He pressed his hands over his eyes, shaking his head.  “I _hate_ you.”

Chrollo stepped into his space, close enough that Kurapika could feel his body heat.  “I know,” he said.  He sounded _fond_ of all things; Kurapika wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t find the energy.  He just shook his head again.  Chrollo wrapped his arms around Kurapika’s shoulders, firm but not crushing.

Kurapika tensed, his hands dropping to Chrollo’s shoulders, trying to push him off.  “ _Unhand_ me,” he hissed, shoving and hitting him.  Chrollo only smiled.

“Shh,” he tugged him closer, wrapping him up properly.  “It’s okay.”

“It most certainly is _not_ okay!”  Kurapika resumed his struggle.  “You killed them!  You took them away from me!”  He was startled by a tear rolling down his cheek.  He tried to ignore it, but one quickly became two, and then he was crying—really crying—for the first time in _years_.  He kept hitting Chrollo, but as his shoulders heaved with sobs, he crumpled, his forehead dropping to Chrollo’s chest.

Against his better judgement, he wept into his mortal enemy’s shirt, clinging to him as the man held him.  The fact that he was letting it happen only made Kurapika cry harder.  More than he hated Chrollo, he hated _himself_.

“I hate you,” he sobbed.

Chrollo stroked a hand over his back.  “I know.”

“I want you to die.”

“By your own hand, no less.”

“Why won’t you just _die_?”

“Wouldn’t you be lonely?”  Chrollo’s voice was low, rumbling pleasantly in his chest.  “You have your friends, but this part of you, they don’t understand it, do they?”

“No,” Kurapika agreed, a little sad.  “Mostly, it scares them.”

“Instead of killing me, you could have me do some other thing, you know.  Nothing will bring them back,” he said, not unkindly.  “I’ve considered it, but there’s no power I know of that makes that possible.”

Kurapika pulled back, blinking his tears away to frown at him.  “You’ve considered it?”

“Sure,” he agreed readily.  “I’ve told you before, you’d make an excellent spider.  If I could undo the past without ruining what made you worth recruiting, I would do it.  Unfortunately, the thing that gave you all this potential is also the thing that keeps you out of my reach.”  Chrollo sighed.  “It’s too bad.”

Kurapika dropped his head again.  “With or without them, I would never agree to be a spider.”

He curled closer to Kurapika, his arms tightening their hold for a moment.  “My loss.”  His breath raised goosebumps in its wake.  Kurapika closed his eyes.  The last time he’d been held so securely…  It had been a long time ago.  Outside of brief bear hugs from Leorio, no one hugged him anymore, and certainly not like this.

Even though it was Chrollo, he found himself relaxing.  It felt so nice to be held, even if it was his mortal enemy.  He wanted to be able to kill him.  He wanted to make him suffer for confusing him like this, for ruining his vengeance, for ruining his _life_.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around Chrollo’s waist.  If he was going to let this happen, he might as well enjoy it while it lasted.  Afterward, he could try to kill him again.  There was no other way.  The longer he spent hesitating, the better Chrollo’s odds of getting away became.  Not that he seemed to be in any kind of rush to leave.

“What if,” Chrollo murmured, “you let me try to make you happy?”

“No.”

“No?”  Chrollo squeezed the back of his neck once, scratching lightly at his hair line.  Kurapika shivered.  “You won’t let me?”

“No, you’ll never make me happy.”

“Then you’d be assigning me an impossible task.”

“I’d rather you die.”

“By your own hand,” Chrollo agreed.  “But you haven’t killed me yet.”

Kurapika had a knife in his sleeve.  Stabbing Chrollo would be easier than ever from this close.  It would be intimate.  Kurapika would slit his throat and hold him while he bled out.  He would watch the life as it drained from his eyes.

He sucked in a deep breath, curling his fingers in Chrollo’s shirt, digging them into his back.  “I hate you.”  He pressed his forehead back into his chest, ignoring the way his voice shook.  “I _hate you_ ,” he insisted.

“I know,” Chrollo said, unconcerned.  “I know.”


End file.
